


Last night

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, F/M, Fluff, Food, Foreplay, Kissing, newlyweds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7797370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil and his new wife share breakfast in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last night

The morning sun poured its pale light through the leafy canopy of the Wood that dappled it with green as it crept through the arched window of the bedroom to kiss your cheeks. A slow smile tugged at your lips even as wakefulness radiated throughout your body with a catlike stretching of your muscles, and your eyes fluttered open to look at your surroundings.

Only yesterday, you had been a stranger in this room, with its glowing amber lamps, rich tapestries, vast four-poster bed and branching canopy, and chairs of glossy wood with their backs carved into the shapes of stags’ horns. Now, it was home. It belonged to you, as did the man with whom you would share it…the man whose piercing, glacier-blue eyes had been watching you keenly, fondly as you emerged from your repose.

Sensing his gaze, you turned toward Thranduil where he lay on his side to face you, his smooth skin warmed by the light’s caress and his silvery-blond hair draped like spun silk over the muscular curve of his shoulder. A smile illuminated his flawless face, and he reached to trail the backs of his fingers lightly over your cheek, down the column of your neck, lazily flicking his wrist to trace the lines of your collarbone with his fingertips.

“Good morning, wife.” His voice was husky with disuse, drawing you irresistibly closer to him, his arm slipping around your waist in welcome as you moved to share his pillow.

“Good morning, husband,” you sighed, pressing a leisurely kiss to his lips.

Thranduil hummed with contentment and threaded his foot between yours, murmuring again, low, smoky, intoxicating. “Have you rested well, _meleth_?”

“ **I dreamt about you last night** …or perhaps it’s only that last night felt like a wonderful dream,” you mused, smiling. “I’m not entirely sure, now I think of it.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” you answered, suddenly realizing it.

“The maids have already brought breakfast,” he said, with a last kiss before he rose from the bed and moved to the tea table beside the hearth.

“Have they?” You sat up, feeling sheepish as you ran your hands through your tousled hair. “I can’t remember when I’ve ever rested so deeply.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Thranduil answered, with a sly grin over his shoulder that brought a hot flush to your cheeks.

He returned to join you again in the bed, carrying a tray that nearly made your mouth water with its artful arrangement of fruit, fresh bread, creamy butter, and a shimmering, crystal dish of honey, and you quickly chose a plump strawberry, biting its juicy red flesh from the green leaves and stem.

“They’re very sweet this year,” you observed, plucking the stem from another berry to offer it to Thranduil. 

He ate from your hand, his lips brushing your fingertips, and sipped from a cup of hot tea before leaning close to you, grazing the tip of your nose teasingly with his own.

“I wonder…“ Though his tone was mischievous, his lips thoroughly possessed yours, kissing, nibbling, flicking his tongue over each in turn, teasing them apart, leaving you dizzy when he murmured against your cheek, “I do believe your lips are sweeter yet.”

“Two can play at that game, _meleth nín_ ,” you purred, and with a swipe of your finger through the dish of honey, you dabbed delicately at his lower lip, letting him draw your fingertip into his mouth to suckle it clean with a lascivious roll of his tongue before climbing astride his lap, cradling his face in your hands while you greedily kissed away the sweet, sticky remnants from his lips.

Thranduil’s hands roamed over your shoulders, down your back, traced your spine upward again to glide through your hair, all with a simmering, electric restraint, and he bit his lip to contain a smirk. “What about breakfast?”

“There are other appetites that must be fed, my lord,” you grinned, giving his shoulders a playful shove. 

His low, throaty laugh rippled through the chamber as he let you push him to lie back on the bed, feigning helplessness as you planted your hands triumphantly on either side of his head and bent to caress him with a more tender kiss.

**“I like it when you smile,”** you said, feathering your lips over his cheekbone to his pale temple.

His hands moved more firmly over your body, his touch confident, possessive, adoring. “That must be why you made me smile so many times last night,” he murmured cheekily, turning your answering giggle to a small gasp as his teeth grazed the skin of your neck where it joined your shoulder.

“Oh, my Thranduil,” you sighed, raising yourself on your hands to look into his face and finding your breath nearly stolen by the love in those blue eyes, ice and fire mingled in their depths. “Last night was only the beginning.”


End file.
